


Silence is Golden: Anthea in the Diogenes Club

by EmeraldEyes8917



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anthea (Sherlock) is the Best PA, Diogenes Club, F/M, Gen, Official Business, Silence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:22:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28108521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldEyes8917/pseuds/EmeraldEyes8917
Summary: When she is required to bring documents to Mr Holmes, she is instead summoned to one of his known havens, the Diogenes Club.  She is in for a few unique surprises along the way, as well as knowing the value of silence.
Relationships: Anthea & Mycroft Holmes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Silence is Golden: Anthea in the Diogenes Club

Taking a trip to the Diogenes Club for the first time was no mean feat, especially in her first month as Mycroft Holmes' personal assistant, a position coveted by many of her fellow desk clerks. So she was determined to do her utmost to be deserving of this promotion, however nervous she was of making any mistake.  
  
The white building was pristine in its structure, opulent, imposing, and she hugged the thick file closer to her chest, as if afraid that it would be snatched from her hands if she even loosened her grip.  
  
The brass plate bearing the name of 'The Diogenes Club' glinted in the afternoon light, and she took a few tentative steps towards the front door. Just as she lifted her hand, poised to knock, it swung inwards and she almost moved back out of fright. A man dressed in black regarded her quietly, framed in the doorway.  
  
Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, but she managed to swallow thickly and say timidly, "Envoy from the governmental office with a delivery for Mr. Mycroft Holmes."  
  
The doorman gave no sign that he acknowledged her, only moving back behind the door, leaving it fully ajar. She steps over the threshold and into the entrance hall, saying a quiet 'Thank you', every bit the polite assistant.  
  
The doorman remained where he was, silent and expressionless.  
  
'Alright, no chance of asking for directions, then;' she muses internally.

Taking a degree of initiative, she makes her way inside.  
  
The interior was just as opulent as the exterior, and she felt like she was walking through an old palace rather than a gentlemen's club. Apart from that, she had no clue what the Diogenes club was, or what it stood for or even what the rules enshrined in its traditions were. All she knew that this was Mr. Holmes' haunt outside of work, and that it was a club for gentlemen. She had imagined a group sitting around, smoking cigars, drinking brandy and bemoaning the state of the nation.  
  
Her path turned about several corners, and if not for the array of paintings on the walls acting as visual markers for each corridor, she would surely have lost her way.  
  
One last turn took her into a wide, open space, littered with comfortable armchairs, totaling five, all placed strategically before the ornate fireplace, and each with a man sitting in them, reading a newspaper, sipping tea or some other beverage from finely cut glasses. None of them, however, she recognised as her employer.  
  
Anthea takes a moment to orientate herself once more, and in doing so, something struck her even from standing here for just a few seconds. It was so.. quiet. It was almost stifling and suffocating just how silent it was.  
  
There was barely a sound of a breath being inhaled or exhaled from any of the men and she felt that any move she made was being amplified. She makes a small step on the wooden floor, and her high-heel taps so loudly, she could hear it resonate around the room, and once she shifted her weight, there was a deafening creak, and one of them men inclined his head a fraction towards her.  
  
Fighting the urge to back out, she stands very still, not moving an inch. Now she was even more uncertain whether to ask for Mr. Holmes.  
  
The file feels quite heavy in her arms, but she looks straight ahead to another adjoining room. Taking a great and much thought about chance, she crosses the room, the carpet dulling her footsteps, and now all six men looked up at her, aghast, but she did not make eye contact, only walking past and leaving only a scent of perfume in her wake.  
  
Another room, with seven more gentlemen, with the same level of quiet that she was loathe to break. The same motion, crossing the room while doing her best to stay very quiet, despite her overwhelming urge to move as quickly as she could, risking a trip or a stumble on the carpet.

It was only in the third room when she came across a waiter wearing white gloves and bearing a tray, and oddly enough, wearing a pair of cloth shoes, did she pluck up courage to mouth 'Excuse me' and point to the file in her arms.  
  
The waiter frowns, and goes to pull on an old-fashioned cord, summoning another man in a suit, pointing her out.

She is sagely beckoned over, and she walks over on tiptoe, her calves beginning to ache from the awkward positioning of her high-heel and being on tiptoe for so long, just about to say thank you, when they put their index fingers to their lips.  
  
Soon she is led to Mr. Holmes' chambers, and he greets her politely, taking the file and offering her a drink. She certainly wouldn't refuse, even if she was on duty.  
  
"Sir..."

Once they were sitting down and had gone through the preliminary points of the file, she decides to ask the question that had been on her mind from the moment she had walked into the building, "What is this place? Why... why was it so quiet?"

She sits on the edge of the armchair, her skirt smoothed down, the glass held tightly in both hands, painting the picture of a nervous intern.  
  
Mycroft leans back in his chair, swirling the drink in his glass. "It is a space where the most distinguished members of our government and civil service come and escape the world's noises and bustle. It's quite a novel idea if you can learn and appreciate the rules and traditions."  
  
Anthea nods and takes a tiny sip, "Yes, sir. Of course, sir. I am sorry, but no one had explained to me beforehand about the quietness and I did my very best not to cause trouble and if I did, it wasn't intentional and..."  
  
"My dear girl, do take a breath."

His tone is not scolding but holds gentle firmness as he speaks, "You were not to know. It is the ethos of this place that it to be kept sacred and shielded from those outside its walls. But that you came here with this purpose, and with many more in future, then of course you will be privy to our ways. As my assistant, you will be led through doors that were locked before, but I now grant you the key. Alright?"  
  
She nods again, feeling like a child, "Yes, Mr. Holmes. I will be more careful next time."  
  
"Good. Now drink up and let's discuss the course to take with Mr. Alton."  
  
And that was her first foray into the hallowed halls of the Diogenes. As time went on, she would discover more of its traditions and history, and she would soon feel comfortable walking through the rooms without disturbing any of the men there.  
  
As part of the routine, she would always slip off her high-heels and pad through in her bare feet clad in silk stockings, much to the befuddlement of those who had never glimpsed her before.

Mycroft accepted this tiny informality, as it did contribute to the silent atmosphere that he strives to uphold, and they would share drinks in his private quarters, where she would sit with her legs tucked up under her in the chair that was now unofficially known as her own across from her superior.  
  
Unbeknownst to her until many years later, her very first visit was the first time since its establishment that a woman had walked through the Diogenes Club. With all her earnestness and fear, she had made history.  
  
So she would continue to walk through those rooms, silent and poised, with her head held high.


End file.
